The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 1

The bank account had been wrung completely dry.

The reason couldn’t be simpler: He had used up all the money.

On what? Well, first, there was that long-sought-after refrigerator. That was a mandatory purchase, he felt, given his qualms about the food-preservation situation, what with summer looming in the distance.

Next, there was the bicycle. It was a record-breakingly cheap fixed-gear, but for the commute to and from his part-time job, it worked.

That, and the washer he bought. He figured at first that the Laundromat would suffice, but the time and annoyance involved came to be too much. Definitely another appliance he wanted squared away before summer arrived.

He had made all of these purchases with cash. And now, his remaining balance would barely cover a stick of gum.

“You should be more careful with how you spend your money, you understand.”

The condemning voice beat against his eardrums.

“…What, did you want me getting sick off rotten food all summer, then? You want me to wear the same outfit every day?!”

“I said nothing like that.” The calm, serene voice still had a chiding air to it. “But think about this. Your account might be exhausted, but
you do have a job, yes? And a steady one at that. It would be simple to figure out your income for the next few months. You could have easily paid for all of this on credit.”

“Don’t like taking loans.”

“…I honestly don’t think you’re in the—”

“Plus, there’s all kinds of fees and things for that! I don’t like paying for things that I can’t see and feel with my own hands.”

“But—”

“Never spend money you don’t actually have. I hate debt. If there’s no money, you shouldn’t use it. Buy stuff all at once with cash in hand, or don’t buy it.”

It was a typical one-hundred-square-foot tatami room, the kind you saw all across Japan. In the middle, two men sat facing each other on opposite sides of an old, decrepit
kotatsu
table, the room’s only heat source.

On one end, the lecturer. On the other, the lecturee.

The lecturer, taller and thinner than his conversation partner, slowly rose and placed a hand on the door of the newly-purchased refrigerator.

“Your Demonic Highness, let me ask you this.”

The “Demonic Highness” being lectured was a man of average build, average height, and dark hair. His lecturer opened the refrigerator door, a twinge of resignation within his otherwise sharp eyes as he shot a stare back at his target.

“How do you plan to survive until your next payday on a block of
konnyaku
gel, a cucumber, and a carton of milk?”

“I…that…”

The “Demonic Highness” being lectured remained seated, unable to formulate a response.

“I-I’m not completely broke yet. There’s still some money in my wallet.”

The taller man’s eyes seemed to say that this was not an adequate response.

“I, uh, I could always grab some extra food from my job…”

“Oh, so you plan to go all
Super Size Me
every meal from now
until your next paycheck? Do you think
that
would be the best thing for your health?”

To the side of the refrigerator was a city-provided garbage bag, bulging conspicuously on the floor. It was stuffed with a vast array of boxes and packaging from a certain famous fast-food chain.

“It…it’s still young, this body.”

“And I would wonder how young it would look after a decade of daily high-calorie, high-cholesterol cuisine! When we finally make our triumphant return, hopefully you won’t require a mobility scooter!”

The sarcastic tone continued apace. “Also, you should know that time has different effects on this body from the one before. Ten years as a human being may not
seem
very long, but it is. Your health is a surprisingly fragile thing, Your Demonic Highness. Are you planning for that at all?”

“All right, all right! Lay off me a second! I’m not, all right?! Are you happy now?! And anyway! It’s not only
my
fault I’m like this right now!”

“Yes. Of course, my liege. There is no apologizing for the shame that has befallen us. But it was you, as our one and only Devil King, who decided we should bide our time and wait for the moment to rise once more. And in the meantime, you must be diligent in your work
and
in retaining your health. And I fear you are failing at both.”

The Devil King fell silent. He turned his head to the side, apparently in regret for his behavior. Then:

“Gah! It’s time for work!”

Hopping to his feet, he tore out of the room, as if suddenly remembering he was inside a lion enclosure at the zoo. His lecturer, caught by surprise at this sudden flurry of activity, was left behind by the kitchen counter.

“M-my liege! Wait! We still need to talk…”

“Save it, Alciel! If it’s more complaints, I’ll listen to it when I get back!”

Just as the man named Alciel caught up to him, he slammed the
door in a huff. Mere inches saved himself from smashing his nose against it.

“Your Demonic Highness!”

As Alciel called for his companion, the door opened. The Devil King was there, a tremendous glare on his face as he extended a hand toward Alciel.

“Rain! Umbrella!”

The sky had been clear that morning, but ashen clouds now hung low in the sky. Raindrops had only just begun to fall. Before he could say anything else, Alciel wordlessly handed over the frayed, battle-worn plastic umbrella propped by the side of the front door.

“Thanks! See you!”

The door shut in his face once more, to the sound of the Devil King’s feet clanging as he stormed down the stairs.

“Dullahan! My beloved mount! We’re off!”

The so-called Devil King, his wardrobe betraying an obvious dedication to the clearance racks at UniClo, the monolithic discount clothing chain, heroically sounded the bell on his bicycle as he climbed aboard. Balancing his umbrella like a knight readying his jousting lance, he scurried down the alley in front of the apartment building.

Alciel, the lecturer who was bedecked in a full UniClo wardrobe himself, craned his body over the stairwell railing as he saw his companion ride off into the rain. A long, deep sigh erupted across his lips.

After a moment, he turned around and ventured back inside the apartment, a plain wooden placard with the household’s name written upon it in Magic Marker the only thing decorating the door. It listed the kanji to the left, and the English reading—Maou—to the right, with a dash in between the two. In effect, it read to any passing Japanese as T
HE
T
RUTH
W
ITHIN
to the left, and D
EMON
K
ING
to the right.

Closing the door behind him, Alciel shook his head and sighed once more. Why did all of this have to happen? The dark clouds and tinkling rainfall blackened the room, making it as gloomy and shadow-laden as his own heart.

The dim scene was broken only by the somber sound of the doorbell. The doorbell? Oh. Right. This building was far too down-market to offer anything like an intercom to its residents. Alciel opened the door a second time.

“…I’m sorry, we don’t own a television here.”

The MHK TV-fee collection agent was a familiar presence in his life by now. It was no lie. There was no TV in the place. The Devil King and more-or-less master of the house reasoned that they could use a smartphone for their video-entertainment needs, but such a high-end device was nowhere near within reach of their strained budget.

“Certainly. I just thought I would check. If you do purchase one, please bring this payment slip to the bank, if you could.”

The collection agent handed over an envelope just as dull and unadorned as his businesslike tone of voice. Then he left, not bothering with even a perfunctory smile.

Vast and sprawling as the yawning continents of Ente Isla were, there was not a soul in their world unaware of Satan, the Devil King. He was the overlord of the demon world and all the creatures that slithered and slavered within, his name all but synonymous with abject terror and cruelty.

His sole motivation in life was to conquer Ente Isla, the divinely protected Land of the Holy Cross, and subjugate the foolish humans within as he transformed the continent into a paradise for his dark legions.

Making the situation even more desperate for the human race were the faithful war generals by the Devil King’s side, each as overwhelmingly powerful as the master they served.

They were Alciel, Lucifer, Adramelech, and Malacoda, and together they were called the Four Great Demon Generals.

Ente Isla, the land protected by the gods, was composed of a large central landmass planted within the Ocean of Ignora, itself surrounded by four islands. These islands extended from the sea each
to a cardinal direction, thereby forming a rough cross. The Devil King had deployed Alciel’s forces on the eastern island, Lucifer’s on the western, Adramelech’s on the northern, and Malacoda’s on the southern. They had deployed far and wide across the land, bringing both the humans and the godly forces that aided them to the very edge of annihilation.

Then, something happened to Lucifer’s western forces.

Word arrived from the west that the war-loving general’s armies had been routed by a single human being.

This woman, referring to herself as a “Hero,” had rallied the few surviving human fighters together to stage a resistance effort.

Lucifer was a former angel that had fallen from the world of the heavens, and the Western Continent was occupied by the resilient forces of the Ente Isla Church, the powerful ecclesiastical institution that was deemed the “closest to heaven” in the land. The Demon King had reasoned that Lucifer, well versed in the ways of the heavens, would be perfect for dispatching the Church and the divine assistance it received. This assumption had been dashed by a single human. A so-called
Hero
, at that.

Of course, every long, drawn-out struggle has its setbacks. Lucifer had had a poor string of luck, perhaps. But, as Satan confidently concluded, the combined forces of his remaining generals would surely make easy work of this Hero.

That was his first mistake.

Satan had thought of humans as little more than grubworms, wriggling in and along the ground he trod upon.

But think about it. Could one ever truly eradicate every single grubworm from the land? Even the mightiest and fiercest of lions could be felled by a single insect bite, if it proved poisonous enough.

Within the space of a single year, first Adramelech, and then Malacoda, followed Lucifer down the path of defeat. Alciel, renowned as the Generals’ most gifted strategist, suggested abandoning the Eastern Continent and waging a defensive battle on the Central Continent in order to protect the Devil King’s central base. After years of waging war over the fate of Ente Isla, the battle had been turned
upside down in twelve short months. Not even Satan could view the situation with optimism any longer.

Soon the humans, on the rebound and campaigning in the name of the Church and their Hero, had pushed their way to the Central Continent, their vast forces descending upon the Devil King’s holdings. One had to wonder where all these grubworms had been hiding up to this point.

In the blink of an eye, the central island was overrun. The demonic forces had been brutally crushed, all because he had underestimated the mettle of this single Hero, this mere maggot of a creature.

Satan and Alciel fought back, battling the forces of the Hero and her three stalwart companions at the site of his Devil’s Castle on the Central Continent.

The war wore on. Even the Hero faced difficulty against both the Demon King and his sole remaining general. But in terms of manpower and resolve, the Hero’s forces far outclassed Satan’s and Alciel’s.

Eventually, once the Hero’s holy sword sliced off one of Satan’s horns, Alciel advised his ruler that retreat was in order. Continuing to wage war would lead not only to defeat but threaten their very existence as well.

It was an agonizing decision for Satan to make, but one that even he saw the need for. The demonic forces would, to put it simply, flee Ente Isla. They would escape to another world and wait, rebuilding their strength until they were ready to return.

The look of pained frustration on the Hero’s face as Satan plunged through the Gate to another world, just before she could pierce his heart with her holy blade, provided but little comfort to the demonic overlord.

Satan’s final scream thundered across Ente Isla, as if he were attempting to address the heavens themselves.

“Hear me, humans! Ente Isla is yours…for now! But I will return… and when I do, both you and this land will be mine!”

But controlling a Gate to another world required a tremendous amount of magical force. Weakened and wounded by the Hero’s
decisive victory, Satan and Alciel no longer bore the strength needed to fully navigate the portal.

Sucked into the Gate’s torrential flow, the two powerful demons were soon astonished to find themselves marooned in a world with an advanced civilization already established upon it.